A crystal heart
by luisa.vang
Summary: Without Finland he was heartless. That was something Sweden realised in the moment Russia took the smaller nation away. But he had no idea that it could hurt so much and that all those memories would hit him like a strike of thunder. Still, he would search for a way to get him back, because without him he was not able to stay alive.
1. Prolouge

A crystal heart

This is for the incredible Caroline

_Prolouge:_

Cold. He felt cold. Not because of the sharp wind, not because of the icy snow that flew through the moved air. Not because of his lack of warm clothes. Not because of the blizzard raging where he stood, on the highest point of his country. The Kebnekaise.  
Sweden wanted to scream but there were no sound.  
He wanted to cry but there were no tears.  
He wanted to beg to heaven for forgiveness, for mercy, but he found no words. No words.  
He wanted to be destroyed by someone, anyone, but no one came and he was all alone.  
He wanted to stand up and start running without a goal, just in the hope to find him.  
To embrace him, touch him, feel him and tell him that he was so sorry.  
He would like to tear his heart outside in despair, because he knew it was impossible right now.  
The icy coldness that slowly took over did not manage to erase the pain and to make him numb.  
Numb for all those thoughts inside his mind – so that he was able to ignore those question that slowly begun to make him doubt that everything he had done through the last three hundred years had been right.

Had he done so much wrong? Had he destroyed so much? Hurt others? Did the same things Denmark did? Had he spread so much blood? Had he done so much wrong that he deserved this? That he deserved to lose everything? To be hated by everyone? To be stab into the back like this?  
By his former friends. By the ones he had sailed with, that had told him stories. With whom he had laughed with, ate with, danced with, and celebrated with? Sure it was not all Norway's and Denmark's fault. Deep down in his heart he knew that it was his own fault. All of it.  
The power had changed him like it had changed Denmark, turning the once so loud but loveable nation into a cruel tyrant that was obsessed with the lust for might and glory. His own change…it was not so clear, but it had been there. He had found it fun to beat others up. He had craved for more. And more and more. He just hadn't known how to stop. He had not wanted to at all.  
Nations like him were destined to fall. And those falls were cruel and brutal. He had done so much wrong. He felt the guilt onto his shoulders and it wanted to kill him. This was a fact he was aware of.  
He knew that he had suppressed Finland, knew that the tiny country had suffered under his hands.  
He knew that it had been unfair…Berwald did not even learned the language of him. He was not able to speak one word in finish. In contrast to that Tino had done everything to support him. He had smiled at him.

Oh how he missed this smile. Wide, friendly, warm, open. Loving. Loving. Loving.  
He missed how the fragile boy felt when he embraced him. So thin. So little. So small. So, so warm.  
He missed everything like he remembered everything.  
How his skin felt. It was so milky, so incredible soft to touch.  
How his hair looked, like honey or like the first sunrays after the long, dark, Nordic winter.  
And oh – how it felt to kiss him. Those pretty heart shaped lips, soft and a little pink just like a girl's.  
How he smelled – a mixture of licorice and sweet little flowers. And the taste of nordic berries and cowberries. He was so incredible sweet. He had cheered him up. Or at least he had tried to. With all he was. Oh, how he loved him.  
He was his source of strength, his warmth, his heat, his love, his everything.  
Without him he was heartless, shapeless, useless. Brutal. Cruel. A monster. He had kept him sane through centuries and granted him the one thing he had never thought he would become:  
A pure heart that loved him with all its might.

Yes, he had felt his heart frozen in the second the boy was ripped away from his side.  
And…and those scary visions that flew through his mind and gripped his soul, never to let go of him. What would become of his love? What was with that guy Russia? Sweden hated him so much that he could not stay quiet. Although he was such a calm guy. Too calm somehow.  
Damn that!  
Why could he not cry? Not scream? Not curse that other country that had forced Finland away? Not beg him to give the tiny nation back to him…or, at least, promise not to hurt him. Not to do any of those things Ivan did to his one and only in his visions. Was he that calm that he was cold inside…? Cold. Cold. Cold.  
His world turned grey. His once so colorful world, enlightened by the rainbow spirit of Finland.  
It had been full of sounds and full of love – why had he ignored that lightly side? Why had he been so harsh, so rough, so cold and so cruel with just one goal in his lifetime? Posession? Power? A huge empire? What was all of this? It was worth nothing – just a stupid dream. He had pushed away Finland and forced him – on the other side – to be close to him, to spend time with him. To become his. And still the younger one had smiled at him – sometimes in a sad way. But if he had been on Finlands position…he had long left him, or at least tried too. Or stab him into the back. But no, Finland had endured it all. Finland had smiled.

He hated himself, he could not help it.  
He could not help but remember the time he had first met him. He could not help but revive those feels, feelings, that he would never forget and that stabbed his heart like draggers now. Like ice, like lightning, like thunder, making him wish he would just become numb. Or better – to die right away. But he was a nation so he could not die and he would not die. And he could not granted himself this wish – he had to suffer because he had let him torn away, because he had not fight enough, because…he had not protect him! He had broken that promise he had gave him in this dark night that sparkled because of the million starts above them.  
He had broken it the second time. The second time. Maybe Mathias had been right, back then, in 1523 when he had told him that he would never be able to protect the ones he loved.  
For one moment he was happy that Norway did not follow his pleads to come with him too and he regretted each word he throw onto the others head, every sharp insult in that night he had left.  
He felt even sorry for leaving Mathias although he did not regret his decision to leave. He suddenly knew now how it felt to be left, how it felt when something, no, someone was missing. Of course neither Tino nor him had ever been for Mathias what Lukas was for him but…They had been one family. They had been together for centuries. Centuries.

The cold snow did not bother him. The wind that had taken his glasses…he did not felt it. The sound of the howling air, he did not hear it. Maybe it was cold outside. Maybe it was stormy. But this storm would end. It was just a matter of time until the nature slowed down. Even here on this mountain the sun would shine.  
But not for him. There was no sun anymore and nothing that could have made the storm inside him calm. Nothing to keep him sane, calm and at least (although it was just a little bit) friendly.  
The memories, he could not flee them.  
The voices inside his head, they would never stop.  
The feelings inside his heart weren't warm anymore but like eternal ice.  
His heart had turned to crystal that was blinking in the winter sun. 

Slowly the first picture became clear right in front of his eyes, like it was living, like it was not a memory but the reality. Like Finland was still here, small, tiny, tender. Sweden had the urge to stretch his arms to this vision but he touched nothing but the snow.


	2. 1154

_1154 _

"Hey, you stupid idiot, leave me alone!", Norway complained while Denmark dragged him into the opposite direction of the way Sweden took. This sentence (followed by diverse not understandable complaining) was the last the light-blond teenager heard from his two friends. He was on his way east – in the morning the young Vikings have had a little fight about where to go today.  
The last years had been full of fights and wars. It was not that Sweden hated it to be alongside his friends, attacking France, attacking England. Plundering, burning and destroying. It was somehow fun. He could not explain it. But he did not enjoy it that much compared to Denmark or Norway. Berwald was a lot calmer then Mathias. Even more quiet then Lukas. It was not that he liked it to be alone but sometimes it seemed like it was the best when he parted himself from the two.  
He had the feeling that he disturbed them. Why? He did not know.  
Sometimes he searched the answers in the sky that was there above him, in a pale blue. The weak winter sun was more white than yellow and it was snowing although he could not make out any clouds up there. It was unusual for him but it was like he walked with his heads in some imaginary clouds, thinking about everything and nothing.

When he managed to tear himself out of those thoughts – some of them were pretty stupid, he knew that – he looked around him in surprised. How long had he walked? It was like he had forgotten about time and space. Where was he? That was a stupid question, somehow. It had been his own decision to go eastwards. So it was his own fault that he had not pay any attention on the way.  
Here was the snow deeper and he could not see his footprints anymore. What had he wanted here? Oh, yes, explore. Next to him had to be another nation too, or not? Except Norway. When they had headed westwards one or two centuries ago, it had been the same. There were England and France and he had heard of a few other nations like Italy and Spain, for example. So in the direction west and south were more countries. Norway had sailed into the northern direction – and had found a little kid that he had named Iceland. This little boy was often with them since that day but Norway had told him that he liked Iceland to stay on his island so he was not dragged into a stupid war.

The faint light managed to sneak through the thin leaves. It produced a green shine that remembered him of sparkling gems – he had found some of those stones when they had invaded England. But this green was still different. It fit perfectly to the snow underground.  
The trees were huge and he wondered why it was still so bright around this place. It did not seem lonely. And it seemed not strange to him although he had never been there. It was familiar. He could not explain it but he felt happy here. It was quiet but on the other side, the sounds of life filled each space. The wind that moved the branches of the trees and shrubberies. The sound of the singing birds. The melodies sounded different. Somehow calming and more silently.  
He did not know them like he did not know this place. The air tasted like berries and although it was the end of winter, he could still make out some glossy blue berries where the snow was not that deep. He took one step deeper into that beautiful face, turning around and just admitting the environment.

In the next moment he heard how a branch broke somewhere behind him and turned around. He was no person to trust others blindly and so he brought up his sword while he glanced and searched for the cause for the noise. Sweden had always been a pretty good hunter so he could have made out other beings fast. He knew how an animal moved whether it was a bear, a deer or a rabbit.  
The air smelled different around them when he was on a hunt – often it dripped from fear. And now he could also taste some fear between the sweet flavor of berries. And there was the noise of someone breathing fast. Sweden took a few steps into the direction of the sound when he suddenly stopped. The person that had appeared next to the tree in front of him looked indescribable.  
He was not sure if it was not maybe a vision or a hallucination. The soft glimmering shine from before seemed to reflected itself on this pale skin that looked like porcelain. The child – it was in his appearance about five or six years younger than himself – wore only a long white tunica and a red scarf and still the exposed skin of his arms was not reddened by the icy cold around him. It was a boy although Sweden was not really sure about that. He could only tell that by the short, light-colored blonde hair that was a whole mess. His eyes were from a deep violet with brown shades and gleamed in fear while his tiny hand were clenched into the wrinkles of his tunica. His face was round and innocent like only a child's was but it was reddened. Maybe because he was terrified?  
Sweden did not thought in the moment he looked at the smaller boy.  
Neither of them moved except the soft shivering of the boy. Suomi was afraid. He was in danger. He had never seen another nation ever before. Not such a tall one.  
Maybe Sweden was not even aware of the sword that was still pointing on the others chest but he was aware of nothing but Suomi. He had never seen such a pure creature all his life – and he had lived for centuries so that counted much. It took him moments that felt like hours or maybe months or even years to focus on something other than this face, this hair, these huge eyes. For him it still did not felt like reality – the fact that the boy was still in front of him and had not flee him supported his suggestion that this was nothing more than a silly dream. He let his sword sink and took a step forward. Finland flinched and took a step back in turn, still shivering all over. The cold never bothered him as well as the wild animals – he was more befriended with them than with his inhabitants.

Sometime later the silence was broken by the trembling voice of the boy. "Mitä haluat minusta?"  
Sweden blinked a few times like he had to make sure that he was still awake. He stared at him in confusion, not understanding a word what the small nation was saying. It did not count anyways.  
He had decided long ago what he was going to do now.  
With a few steps he was beside him and knelt down in front of the tiny boy that looked at him in shock. He took off his darkblue cloak and wrapped it gently around the little ones shoulders. It was a miracle that the boy was not running away but it seems like the fear had rooted him there. Suomi could just stare at the teenager, afraid of those bright blue eyes that could have reminiscent him of the seas of his own country. The height of the nation, the shoulders that had grown broad in the passing decades – all of it frightened him. For Suomi Sweden was terrible but terrible beautiful too – he was like one of those polar bears. He would have admired him if he had not been in such a shock. This shock only grew and waved over him with an incredible power when Sweden lifted him up. Finland struggled first like the touch had brushed the shock out of his body. But though Sweden's grip was as tender as possible, it was still strong and it felt like the other one would never let him go. "I'll t'ke care of y'.", Sweden hushed as silently as he could and held the nation close. "Finland."  
He did not even ask for his name. It was nothing that had really interested him – how the nation called himself. The one thing that had counted was that he was with him. Sweden just wanted to hold him, to protect him. The feeling of this little boy inside his arms was familiar and made his heart warm. It erased the dark thoughts and the stupid questions if he still belonged to his two friends. The younger one smelled like the whole landscape before, on a subtle way. Like berries, flowers, fresh air and like honey. And he looked like pure snow so that the warmth around him was simply a paradox. His skin was so fair that it was shining in the sunrays. Gleamed like the snow, shimmering like icicles. After a while Suomi, no, Finland, stopped fighting his grip and rested his head onto the taller ones shoulder. He was helpless but felt safe at the same time. He had been overtaken and did not knew it yet. No, at the moment the boy just felt warm and protected. "I promise.", Sweden murmered, he could not help but smile as he felt how the nation obeyed to his grip. The breath of the child tickled on his neck and it became more regular and quiet. The boy was falling asleep slowly while Sweden just stood there and stroke about the boys back. Although he was covered with two layers…he could still feel how fragile he was. Delicate. Frail. Tiny. But he would protect him – no one would ever be able to hurt this nation. "…Ruotsi…", murmered Finland in his sleep, his small hands in the back of Swedens shirts. Sweden did not knew in that moment that this was the boy's name for him - but he did not care. Gently he brought up the head of the sleeping child with one hand and pressed a tender, innocent kiss on his forehead. "I'll protect y'…"

_1809_

Berwald was teared out of this memory when he realized the hot tears that finally streamed down his face - or were they just imagination too? No.  
They clearly fell onto the ice-cold, snow-white underground and melted it. He let down his arms and hid his face in his large hands as if it was able to make anything better. Sweden could still see this little boy, still feel how those hands hold the fabric of his shirt behind his neck. The warm, sweet breath of him on his skin. How happy he had been to find him but - oh, how posessive he had been. He had not seen that he had frightened the boy. He had not realized that Finland maybe would have liked to tell him how his name was. Sweden shivered from the cold inside, glancing up at the grey sky.  
"Suomi...", he whispered. "I am so sorry."  
But it was not the last time he had promised a thing that did not become true. It was not the last time that he had hold him, that he had embraced him.  
Although it was the first time for him to love. It had been such a innocent love, like a blooming flower in spring.  
He had not threated this flower on a good way. Again he closed his eyes - no matter what he would see next, if it was as happy on first sight like this memory - he did not want it to touch him. But he knew it would when he thought he would hear a soft laughter from far away.

* * *

Mitä haluat minusta? = Finnish for: What do you want from me?

Ethymology of the name Finland = 'covered in snow' (from the old-northern language: the adjective from the word 'Finne')

Historical Background: The swedish King Eric IX. made his first armed exploration to Finland in the year 1154 and tried to christianize the finnish population. Since that more and more of the finnish land fell under the rule of Sweden.

Like ever: Feel free to review!


	3. 1258

1258

A hundred years were nearly nothing in a life of a nation – normally. But Finland had grown under the take of Sweden. He had been a child with an untouched nature whose inhabitants lived in little, wooden houses without the rule of a government or even a king. There were no big cities like the growing Stockholm in the south of Sweden, just a few villages. The culture was wild and the religion was clinged at nature gods. While in the other Scandinavian countries the Christianization had begun, Finland had still believed in multiple ghosts that were hiding in his forest, in his lakes, in the sky above him. He was not used to the sudden centering of his life; he was amazed and afraid at the same time – first it had made him sick. But he still did not flee the taller nation. For him the elder one became – what exactly? A friend? No, because he did not spend very much time with him. A brother? First, yes. He had gathered much warm from Sweden. But that was just for short – the other one became busy. A teacher? More or less. Sweden wanted him to learn his language. And that was what the boy did.

When he had seen him, standing again alone at one of those large, deep lakes, Sweden had felt the sudden urge to pull him into his arms. The water beneath the boy shimmered in the light of the sun that broke through the clouds, enlightened the area, mirroring itself on the surface of the water and letting the hair of the ten-years-old looking boy shimmer. He was as beautiful as ever. But still there could been seen a hint of sadness in the huge eyes and the way he held his body up. His gaze was not turned to the sea but to the mostly grey sky above him. It looked like it would start to rain soon. Sweden sighted without making a sound and followed the gaze of the smaller one after he had taken a look around him. The nature was still bright here as if it would ignore the coming winter. The grass beneath him was from an emerald green and he felt a strong wind that moved the already colored leaves of the trees. In contrast to the pine forests in the north that were always green…It felt like the time flew here so much faster. He was sorry that he did not manage to spend more time with him. The wind had become stronger. The time had become faster. It was cruel to him. Finland did not know that but he was nearly always in danger with this Nowgorod-guy in the east – there were no peaceful weeks. And what was a week in his life? A humans-lifetime? More? Less? He had to protect him. He had promised it. No matter how much he had to fight to keep him safe. The fights weren't big wars more little struggles but they accumulated themselves. Every fight brought new wounds and he hid them from the tiny boy. It was still too early to get known of those dangers for him. And so Sweden forced himself to keep distance – although it turned out to be not easy. It was nearly unbearable. He could not stay away from this nation, he could not distract him but he could also never bear the thought of destroying the pureness of his soul with something like war. Although he knew the day would come in which Finland would see more than a little fight between two nations. He just wanted to keep him safe and to raise him properly. To show him his culture and somehow – bring it to him. He did not care if the boy wanted it or not. Sweden needed him to learn his language – it was not completely true that he had never thought about learning finnish as well but it sounded just strange to him. And he had no time anyway to do it. In contrast to Finland who was simply banned to stay on his western shore, all on his own. It must have been a lonely life somehow. Because Sweden did everything for him, Finland was more or less bored. On the other side Sweden knew that Finland was shocked by the way his nature was destroyed to build lager villages and how his people that had once been satisfied with collecting berries and hunting, tried to start turning parts of his country into agricultural landscape. But he could not resist.

Sweden did not went closer to the boy whose pale hair was moved wildly by the wind although he craved for the feeling of an embrace, although he really needed to touch him and to hear his voice.  
He wished for all of this little signs of a familiar love that he knew from the relationship of Norway and Island. Not even those two had he told about Finland. That he would not tell Denmark that had been sure from the beginning? Why? Because Sweden was afraid of the possessive side of his southern friend. He realized that Denmark tried to bind both – Norway and Iceland – at his side without asking them for their opinion. That it was the same with him and Finland, he just did not realized that fact. Maybe it was because he thought of Finland as an inferior, a child that needed supporting and that could not take care on his own. Nothing of those things had been true but what would had that counted for him even if he had ever known it? It wouldn't have ever changed anything. He would still need to be at Finland's side, still feel the urge to stroke the hair back from that still a little childish face or just to lay one hand on these fragile shoulders. Or just to hear this laugh that he had heard not for a long time now. When Finland laughed it sounded like the soft ringing of little bells for Christmas. He had first heard it when he had given him liquorice. The Fin seemed to love the flavor of it – it was one of the first things he had get from Sweden that really made him happy.

Sweden sighted again, barely audible now and clenched his hands into fists.  
It surprised him that the younger one did not notice him but somehow he was glad of it. He was banished to admit him from the distance, to be his shield – until he would find a way to be close to him and protect him at the same time because this was exactly what he needed. He could not bear to stay that far from him – he could easilier breath with the scent of berries in the air. It had been just a hundertandfour years…and still he was addicted. He had been addicted from the first moment but he did not really understand it. Still it was more a mystery what made his heart beat fast like that when he was around the younger one. Why he would like to be around him all the time. Why he liked it that Finland grew that fast. Why he just wanted to hug him tight and never ever let go again. He would love to feel this soft skin again like when the boy was tinier and laid in his arms. In the first time he had stayed by him all the time, hushing a melody to get the child into the sleep. He had been so fascinated by Finland that he had become distracted. He had not mentioned anything else as long as Finland was happy but soon all of it changed. It was not because anything that happened, just that he noticed that there was an enemy in the east. He had started to become overprotecting and tried to push Finland back whenever anyone was about to threaten him or to invade him.  
In human ages, Sweden would be around fourteen or fifthteen that time, because he had not really grown the last years. His Viking culture had been destroyed by religion and now he was about to destroy Finlands culture too but it only would be the best, wouldn't it? It was better for Finland if he understand him, right?

Finland's voice – nothing more than a whisper that was carried to him with the wind, brought him back to reality back then. "Miksi jätät minut taakse taas, Ruotsi?", the boy had his hands right before his chest, his dark purple eyes still up to the sky where the sun disappeared slowly. It was like the clouds would win the fight about the sky right now. Sweden was shocked although he did not understand a thing except Ruotsi. And even to understand this word – to realize that this was the way Finland would call him in finnish – had taken years for him. But it was not the sentences, the choice of words or anything like that shocked him. It was more how Finland sounded for he had never heard him in another way than happy and optimistic. Alright sometimes he had been afraid too but now his melodic voice was just full of a feeling that made the despair in Sweden's heart rise up like a destroying flame. It placed guilt in his heart for the first time through their relationship to hear the boy speaking with so much sadness. It broke his heart and made him flinched.  
His sudden moving caused Finland to turn around fast and he stared at him like he was some hallucination what he clearly not was. Sweden took a step back although his heart to tell him to do the opposite of that as he realized the tears that welled up into the other ones eyes. Finlands hand had clenched into fists too when he suddenly, after several moments had passed in silence between the two of them, threw himself into the taller nations arms. "Ruotsi.", he had said quietly, sobbing like a little child, his arms tightly around the other ones back. Sweden was just shocked in that moment and he needed a few seconds to get over that shock. "I am s'rry.", he murmered and stroke the others back. "I'll stay." For a while. No matter how short this time would be, no matter how fast in flowed, he would do anything to hold on to him. He would stop the time if he could. He would chase all the worries and fears and the loneliness away. In this moment he had understand what he had done to him and while he was softly wiping away the tears from the soft cheeks of the boy he had to fight the tears too. "I'm s'rry…I'll try h'rder…."

Finland had not known loneliness before – Sweden had taught him what loneliness was.  
For Finland it was to be without Sweden, no matter how scary he was sometimes.  
For Sweden it was exactly the same – even with the three other Scandinavians around he would be still lonely and empty.  
Finland had also not known how it felt to be protected – It could be a horrible feeling. He did not want Sweden to protect him – of course it was nice but he could fight for himself. And Sweden was wrong when he thought that the boy had never realized all the bandages on the taller one.  
Or the scars of the exposed skin when he lent him his cloak again. As if he would not see it. As if he would not understand it. He was a nation too.  
What he had not understood was why Sweden left him behind.

1809

He would never understand why he had not realized what he had done to him all this time. He would never understand why he had been so blind. Sweden had not cared enough for the feelings that Finland had. But somehow he had been happy that he had managed to realize it on that day. It had showed him that Finland needed him too. What he knew now was that Finland had needed him because he had caused the boy to feel incredible lonely. Because his people were centering now and not even the children came to play with him. Because of the citys that raised as well as the agriculture, the animals begun to flee him too – Sweden had took a lot from Finland away. For what? In order to make him his. But back then that had not been that sure.  
The tears had stopped again, leaving him behind like the soft sobs of Finland on that autumn day. They were replaced by a broken look inside his eyes. The memories hit his crystal heart that could not beat in the icy cold inside him. He was afraid that it would crack. Something next to him seemed to bark. A snow white dog approached the area, a part of his fur dirtied in a dark red. Dried blood. The dog limped but it still sounded hopeful when it barked. "H'na…", he whispered and reached out for her while another image of her as a pub appeared aside him. The dog cradled himself against Sweden's knees. Hanatamago was an important part of the both of them and she remembered him at the time he had thought that he would maybe make everything better for the both of them.

* * *

Miksi jätät minut taakse taas, Ruotsi? = Finnish for: Why do you leave me behind again, Sweden?

Historical background: Sweden started to turn the finnish sociality and 'modernized' it. Including the change of religion. The Nowgoarad Republic was an apostate republic from the Kiev Rus, that turned into the Russian Empire. Sweden had to fight this republic several times in order to keep his rule over Finland.


	4. 1296

1296

The sky had turned dark and bright a couple of times. Sweden did not really knew how many time passed since that day on the lake anyway, he did not count any seconds although he captured the past in his memories all the time. He had to treasure each positive moment in his life and, on the other side, had also to remember himself on the things he had done wrong in order to make them better in the future. He did not know what date it had been but he knew exactly what he had promised although he had not said a single word about it except that he would try harder. He had not once mentioned that he would try to find a place nearby so he would not have to ban the other into loneliness. Because it hurt him so much to see him sad, even more than to be without him.

The screechy sounds of the white gulls above him proofed that he had tried to do so, because he was on his way to the first big city in the finnish area: Åbo. It was a harbor city through which the river Aurajoki flowed to meet the Baltic Sea. A perfect place for nearly everything. The city itself was increasing and used to be loud on the morning when the fishers came back from their little ships and tried to sell what they had captured through the last night. But around the place were still nature and even in it there were points where one could only listen to the sounds of the nature. The air in there was clean and salty when one walked near the sea but tasted like the wind over a field of blossoms when one continued going to the north. In winter the rivers were frozen and he had quiet often seen a few kids playing on the ice. In the moment, it was more a Swedish city. Finland knew that his population founded cities and new villages in his country and that the Swedish government managed all this but he had not noticed the meaning of Åbo. The home at the rivers. The place where the gulls sung their high pitched songs and the wind smelled like some salty liquorice, where the sun was white and orange and yellow at the same time, remembering the Swede on reflecting silver, gold and the warm glow of a fire in the stove. It mirrored itself in the water for a thousand, no, a million times and threw flashing lights on the little houses of the city. The sunrays were like guiding lights although he would never need them. He did not need something like a compass and not even to look at the sun or to have the wind coming from the right direction to find his way to Finland.  
He would swim if he had to. He would find the way without any help from anyone. He would even find him if the other one did not wanted him too. It was just natural for him although he was clearly no one of those guys that let themselves lead from emotions. With Finland this was another thing. Sadly, he was not very good when it came to other persons – it was tough for him to read their emotions, especially when they seemed happy the most times. Although he captured Finland one or two times sad – something he never wanted to see, hear and feel ever again. The boy seemed even more fragile when he was sad, even more petite and he was afraid to break him each bone and, that was the thing he were most afraid of, that he was about to destroy his soul.

It was midday when his ship finally reached the harbor – officially he was here to check on the men that build the cathedral here, one of the first bigger churches in the whole country. But of course this was just a farce. He had felt the need to break away from his annoying king although it had counted much more that he would tell the younger nation about the city. He had not seen him for months? Or years? Like said before, Sweden was not really good when it came on the flowing time. Although he was not that old, a few centuries, it was too fast for him. Much too fast. He was glad that he had a whole lot of books and drawings that remembered him on the Viking times. His relation to Denmark was not that good anymore and Norway had become pretty cold and was busy with other things. Not that it mattered too much to him but if he had to be honest, it hurt him. That Finland had been out of his reach for so long made the situation even more, making the dark feelings of loneliness even more and driving him nearly crazy.  
So when he got off of that large ship – it had nearly nothing to do with their old ships anymore, it was something new, something he did not really like when he had to say the truth – he did said simply nothing and just started to walk away.  
He was amazed like ever to be here. It was a feeling that could be compared how he felt when he was around Finland although he had no clue where the boy was right now. But still…He was somehow happy and a little bit proud of himself too. He inspected the streets and the structure of the city. The people here seemed to be happy although the life had to be pretty hard. But wasn't that everywhere the same? One had often to struggle to live on – but the people here were just like Finland and wore the burden on their shoulders with a smile. They seemed to be glad about the change, only a few of them locked themselves away. Not everyone was that happy about the control of Sweden but he knew that the most of them did not even know what this control meant at all.  
He finished because he had the urge to get out of the busy streets, knowing that he would probably find the boy in the nature rather than down there. But something else was calling him. What it was, he could not say but he walked up to the north, the whole time on the way the river took upstream.

After a while he heard a twirping sound from nearby – there was no way he could have overheard it. Carefully he looked around and noticed a little white wad next to a bunch. No it was clearly not a wad because it was barking weakly. Sweden took a closer look when the little pup turned his head around and looked up to him with big brown eyes. He did not know why but he had to smile at the animal that hardly managed to stand alone but barked at him the whole time. What he knew for sure was that this was not a normal dog. There was no way that a single puppy would be left alone by his mother in the wilderness whether it was a pet or not. It had to be a special creature in the same way he or Finland were no humans at all although they looked like that. "Hey.", he said softly and sat down to the pub that stood on all legs, trying to find his balance. Its fur was all white like the snow that had not fallen yet and its eyes had the color of the wood of a pine. Sweden was not sure at all if he should touch it but he had no time to think about it because it had managed to climb over his knees and looked up at him again. "W'nt to c'me with me?", he asked and lifted the pup, aware of the fact that he would get no answer. Could it be that this little thing was the representative of this new, little town that was still growing and still needed a whole lot of support to increase more? The feeling he got now was a mixture of happiness and what one called luck.  
He was sure about that this pet would make not only him bright.

"Hello, Sweden.", Finland greeted while he was busy with the dockets of the selling of today. It had surprised Sweden that the younger nation was integrating himself like that now. But it was just natural for Finland to support his population. In the morning he helped the fishers and the famers on the market, in the evening he did a bit of the business stuff. There was no way around it anyways so why should he lock himself away? What Sweden surprised even more was that Finland grew a lot lately. How old did he look now? Twelve? Maybe even thirteen. He had clearly underestimated him.  
"Hey, F'nland.", he said with a slight smile on his lips. The pup was hiding inside his cloak and it had simply agreed not to make any sound – the first minutes that worked out well. Finland told him that he had managed to bring more routine to his days and that it was quiet good working lately while Sweden could do nothing more than to nod and to stare at him in the same time. Since when did Finland get along on his own? It was nothing that he preferred although he was glad that Finland had found a way to apparent happiness inside this new country of his. "I still missed you.", the boy said then, suddenly, out of nowhere when he gazed up at him with his shimmering dark eyes. Surely there was similarities between his and the small pup that started to bark now. It maybe felt a bit too ignored. "I…m'ssed –", he began when Finland noticed the sound of the animal coming from under the Swede's sleeves. "What's that?", he asked and looked, a hint of curiosity in his huge eyes. "Um…", Sweden did not really know what to say now. The elder one reached inside his cloak and put the pup out tenderly, holding it out to the tiny nation in front of him. Finland stared in surprise at the dog when his face brightened. For Sweden was Finland smile something no one could ever describe properly – it was priceless. A rising sun. The North Star. An aurora shimmering on the dark ceiling of a deep blue dark sky. A rainbow. No all of those natural wonders were nothing compared to the eyes that could sparkle in more colors than a rainbow, warmer than any aurora and brighter than any star. When the lips of the younger one turned into a wide smile he could nothing do but to look at him. Finland reached for the dog and put it up softly. "Oh, it's so cute!", he laughed and softly stroke the fur of the little pup. "'t's y'urs.", Sweden managed to say, tearing his gaze back and focused on the pup instead of the happy face of Finland. "Really?", the other one asked, his voice sounded warm and excited. "S're.", he looked down at the younger one. Finland smiled and cradled the dog closer to him. Like Sweden he knew exactly was the dog was – a representative creature of a place that should be shared between them. It felt like Sweden would finally accept to give him a task that required responsibility. Not that his people did not but it was something different with Sweden. He was just happy right now. "Thank you…", he said softly and granted the taller one another smile.

1809

The memories blurred in front of his eyes, leaving him behind, stealing the feelings of warmth and happiness away. Finlands smiling face had always be the only thing to cheer him up. He had no need of a warm temperature, not even of the sun…Finland was his warmth, his sun, his summer, his day and his light. That was the reason why he felt okay when they sat together, watching the snow fall like back then when they were together…And this was the reason why the cold inside hurt so much more than the snow on his exposed skin, on his face, arms, neck. He tried to give the wounded little dog inside his arms comfort and warmth but on the other side he was the one that was in need for this…He buried his head into the warm fur of the pet – it winced and whimpered in pain and fear. Around them everything turned so dark, the sky was so grey, so cloudy. Everything was so cold. He wished that it would just stop. The bright side was gone, wasn't it? It could just go bad now, or? His hallucination got worse – he remembered the touch of those tiny hands on his shoulders that tried to comfort him. Warm. Soft. He bit his bottom lip. "Don't leave me…Please come back…Finland…Suomi…", he begged but the only thing that continued was the stream of memories.

* * *

Historical background:  
The eldest city in Finland, Turku, or, in swedish Abo (swedisch for 'home on the rivers'), was founded in the end of the 13th century.  
From this point, the Aland-Islands would be ruled, a few islands between Sweden and Finland. Most say that Hanatamago is a representive of those islands.  
Turku was an increasing city with a harbor that was used to trade much goods.

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	5. 1319

1319

The snow outside fell gently from the deep-grey wintersky. It was neverending, Sweden could not even remember when it had begun. He could not say when it would end. His kingdom had been in quiet trouble the last months and it had felt like an headache all the time, until the people got what they wanted – a couple of new legislations – mostly about the government and the never answered question who would be the next king. Now it was up to the upper class who would be the next king. Sweden knew he should show more interest but he simply could not. Outside it was snowing but in his heart it was raging – a blizzard although he did not show it to anyone.

Not even to Finland. But Finland had grown and Finland was not dumb or ignorant or something like that. He had also read those letters and documents although he was not allowed to do so.  
Now he was standing quietly in front of the next thing he had found – a huge drawing that had been covered for decades. Sweden stood in the corner of the office they were in while Finland tingled his head slightly to the side, staring at the picture.  
"Who of them is it?"  
Sweden frowned. He did not know what exactly it was but somehow Finland's voice sounded different than normal. The tiny nation looked closely at the picture as if he had to remember each and every detail of the three people it showed.  
The three of them were, easily said, Denmark, Norway and Sweden in the early days of the medieval era, right after their Christinazation, all seemed to be around the age of fifthteen. The drawing was covered in dust because Sweden had hid it for decades, nearly centuries but one could still identify the three persons.  
It was not hard for Finland to tell which of the three Sweden was – it was of course the tall, blonde boy with the bright blue eyes that remembered on the pale blue autumn sky with the stone expression on his face. The younger Sweden wore a white cape with blue symbols on it and a blue uniform with golden details and around his waist hung his sword. He had one of his hands laid on the shoulder of the boy in the middle. The middle nation was tiny and fragile and looked as if he were a little bit younger. Pale, light-blond hair surrounded a fine face with huge amethyst eyes and long eyelashes. His lips were turned into a fading smile and his hands laid in his lap. On his slender neck were a necklace with a cross and he was dressed with a blouse in a nearly too innocent white and dark-blue trousers that reminded at a long skirt somehow. On his frail shoulders were the hands of the boy standing next to him on the right side. Bright blond hair that reminded on wheat in the summer sun was standing like short spikes around a face that was marked with ocean-blue eyes and a wide grin on curved lips. The jerkin he wore was dark-red. The color had something pretty scary in it – for Finland it looked like it had been plunged in blood. It just did not fit to the open, somehow heartwarming smile in the expression of the teenage boy. The trousers were black and on the belt hung a huge sword in a scabbard. And when one looked carefully he could notice that the grip of his hands around the smaller ones shoulders were especially fixed – the wrinkles on the blouse was proof enough.

The reason why Finland was asking was unclear for him for moments until he managed to reminiscence it. Right, there was this thing – Norway's king had died a time ago. This was not the problem, human died, more or less often natural. Not even the fact that the new king was a three year old child was so abnormal. It was the fact that – because of a stupid document – the king of Norway was the king of Sweden too. In other words – Norway would be forced to move to Swedens house. None of them had pleaded for that union and he remembered clearly how shocked Norway had been. He remembered this half angry, half sad expression on the fine face of the younger one as he told him about it. Sweden had been surprised too – also by the fact that his friend did not know a thing about it. But compared to himself, Norway would be forced to cut his ties to Denmark because of Sweden. And that would be no good – he had been right back then – he clearly had disturbed the both of them. Sweden had tried to reassure him but it did not work – he had been never so good with words – and the problem was that he understood the whole situation. He would not know what he would do if Finland was forced to move away from him – although he knew that the relationship between his former Viking-friends was pretty different than his relationship with Finland. Not the differences in the age – Finland would still grow – but mainly how they threated each other. Sweden would never do anything if Finland did not want it – but he forced Finland to stay with him. Denmark threated Norway like he wished but he never hold on him too tight.

Slowly, Sweden raised his hand and pointed at the teenage appearance of Norway on the drawing.  
Finland blinked, a slight, unreadable smile on his face while he reached with one of his slender hands for the picture and touched the shown cross-necklace before he shrugged back like he had burned himself. The boy held his one hand with the other and bit his bottom lip, chewing at it like he was nervous or something like that. Because Sweden could only see him from the side he could not really tell what for an expression the boy made at all.  
"He is beautiful.", the teenager whispered quietly, his voice chirpy while he was simply staring.  
By now, Finland had reached the outside age of fifteen, the same age Norway had back then. And so he had no other choice than to compare himself with the other one. And for him the result was terrible. Because it was a fact that Norway looked older, quiet more elegant and also like he was somehow more needed – Denmark gave enough proof to whom the boy belonged. Maybe it was because Finland did not know his value. He did not know about his own beauty at all. He did not know how much Sweden needed him. He had no clue at all.

But tough, Sweden did not know what to say to him right now.  
He could not tell what Finland was feeling when he stood there, admiring the picture for seconds, minutes, and hours or months or years. Who did know how fast time could past? Sweden stared too, but at Finland and just at Finland, searching for words that could convince the younger nation that he was far more beautiful. Although there had been a time when he had something like a crush on the Norwegian. The youngest of the Vikings had always been mysterious and while he seemed to be frail, he was flexible and strong on his own way. But sometimes he could be too calm and nearly emotionless. He was pale, even more than Finland was, when he had to compare them than would Norway be sharp ice while Finland was more like soft snow.  
He was warmer and his gaze became sometimes so dreamy that he just wondered what was on the smaller nations mind. And he shared his warmth with him, every second while Norway was more in need of warmth. And Sweden was not good at all in giving emotions to others.  
Now there was a thoughtful expression in Finland's eyes – he did not like this at all. How the corners of those heart-shaped lips were slightly turned downwards, how Finland put down his long eyelashes, hiding his round and pretty sparkling eyes from him. The way the tiny shoulders dropped slightly and the hands were clenched into fists.  
Sweden sighted silently and stepped closer to the Fin, gently gripping his wrists. Finland frowned and turned around to him, not looking at him at all. He faced the wooden floor beneath them and did not say a thing but his face was flushed slightly. The taller one was silent for a moment too – then he reached to slowly touch the chin of the younger nation. "L''k at m'.", he ordered softly, turning his face gently to him. When Finland raised his gaze and bit his lip again, Sweden did the same, struggling for words. He was far too distracted by the lightly pink color on Finland's face.  
"L'sten.", he said silently. "Ya're r'ght. H' 's…", he stated softly. "B't…y' are m're."

1809

He remembered clearly how surprised Finland had been and how awkward but how wonderful that situation had been. He had managed to convince him that Norway would not replace him in any way, and he had nearly confess back then – although he was glad that he had not done it. It had not been the right time. It had been a happy time yes, of course. Norway had been nice too – or at least he had tried it, chatting with Finland and all of it. Oh, he was so angry at him right now. Norway had turned out to be nothing more than Denmark's doll and the both of them had betrayed him, yes. But there was this voice inside his head that told him that it was just his own fault and he could suppress this uprising idea of a worthy pay-back for the Dane. Now, he should really, really focus on getting Finland back. He needed him. He needed him so much that it teared his already broken heart apart. Every second they stayed away from each other shattered his soul, his mind, driving him crazy, burning his wish for revenge while pushing all of his hopes in the darkness. Dark. So dark. The time in which that union was founded came into his head. 1397 was the beginning of the end of a long time friendship, of something like brotherhood. Hana in his arms had fallen asleep and he hold on to her like she would be able to keep him away from the Kalmar Union, making him safe, bringing him back to the time where he could see this beautiful smile of his tiny, fragile lover and got lost in those huge, deep dark of him.

* * *

Historical background:  
In the year 1319 the three year old grandson of Swedens king was elected to be the King of Norway because the former king died without a heir. It was the beginning of the first union between Norway and Sweden.

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	6. 1520

1520

The night of the eight of November was icy cold and crystal clear. Not a single wind was moving the air and on the sky sparkled thousands of white stars. The moon was nearly full and his light was slightly yellow. But no one could see this beautiful heaven in the largest city of Sweden – Stockholm. There the clean sky was tainted with filthy black smoke, arising from little fires all over the cities – and the terrible, sweet scent of burning human flesh filled the air that was ripped apart by the screams of the agonized again and again. Between those horrible high shrieks an unnatural silence laid heavily above the city, creating a darkness that soaked up every positive emotion that had lasted in the hearts of the human. Pain, pain, pain and death were the only thing the civilization of Stockholm knew in that night. And fear, endless fear.

Some parts of the markets, the stones of the streets, even the rills between the stones were stained with blood. And it did not stop – it was ongoing like it would be the same routine for all eternity.  
Second after second, minute after minute, hour after hour.  
Blood, flames, screams death.  
A never ending circle.

His wrist were full of scrapes, bruises, little wounds that bled steadily. They had been chained with ropes of steel right above the window. And Sweden struggled. Every second. Full of despair in a fight he could not win. Not here. Not now. It was hopeless, so hopeless that he nearly gave up. But every scream reminded him that he simply could not be quiet and let Denmark force himself to watch. He had to fight him. But how? He was bound, right in front of that window, in the highest tower of the city in the merciless grip of Denmark.  
The dark chamber was quiet except of the terrified sobs of the youngest of the Nordic nations – Iceland. He was sitting in Norway's lap, his round face buried in his brothers chest, both of his hand over his eyes. His older brother was covering the child's ears too, with his own hands and endured the sounds and the scenery with a broken look in his eyes. He was terrified although he would never admit it. Finland was sitting right next to him, holding the right sight of his jaw with tears in his eyes. When he whimpered it had nothing to do with the dull pain radiating from the point where Denmark had punched him as he tried to help Sweden but because Sweden tried another time to free himself, causing Denmark to hurt him _even more. _The Fin had really stand up more than once for his older friend and yes, this punch that nearly broke his jaw would not be the only punishment. Denmark liked to play with them often – but now he was busy with torture Sweden. And this was much worse for Finland than every wound, every bruise, every cut – he never got them because Sweden took them for him. And now when he wanted to protect him he failed. Over Finland's face flowed silent tears as he kept staring up to Sweden and Denmark. On the latter ones lips were a dark smirk and his deep blue eyes seemed to blink in the darkness – Was he really enjoying this? Finland could not believe that – how could one be so cruel?

Sweden's once so calm and still face was ghastly. His blue eyes that could remind on the endless ocean and Finland's beloved seas and lakes showed anger, despair, hate, fear, but for the most they were full of a pain no one could ever describe. Hot tears had melted the ice that had been in those ocean blue orbs before and since a few hours he did not even fight them anymore. Every death was like a dragger in his heart, every scream, every pain his people felt, teared his soul apart, making him weak, making him _want to die._ But nation could not die and he was far too proud to do so. He would pay. Denmark would pay the price. One day, that idiot, that bastard, that monster would feel even worse pain than that. He would tear his heart apart no matter what he would have to do for it. He would make him scream in agony – this was the only thing the Swede was not doing right now. He bit on his bottom lip every time the pain overflowed his heart, bringing him the urge to scream out loud. No, he did not mind if his lip was slashed by his teeth, he did not mind the little pain, it was so soft and tender against the sharp pain inside his heart, he did not even noticed the blood that was running down his chin alongside with his tears. Both tasted salty, both tasted like the world would end right now. It was disgusting. But he did not scream and this was counted everything to him. He knew that Denmark waited for him, hoped that he would beg for mercy he would never get, that he would plead and scream. But he would do nothing like that. He was too stubborn.

And so it continued and continued and continued. Persons were tortured, persons were stabbed and slashed and ribbed apart. Hurt, killed, burnt or sometimes, burnt alive too. It smelled foul, it looked putrid, a scenery no one would want to see. No one would want to die this way. This was the payback for Sweden's failed rebellion against the Danish crown. He had tried it more than once. This union was nothing more than the rule of an insane nation about four others. If one counted Iceland too. He did with them whatever he wanted too. The worst of all: He did not even stopped for Ice and Fin. Finland was grown up, but still, Sweden could not bear the sight of him getting hurt. He could not let this happen. And it was his fault too – he had signed that document that bounded all of them together. He had believed that it would work out. It clearly did not. Hour after hour. It felt like days, like weeks, like months, years, decades, centuries of pain. The time flew so slowly, so damn slowly. He wanted to lose his consciousness. He wanted to rip this hurting, breaking, dying heart out of his chest when he heard another sound echoing through the silent air of the room – Finland's sobs. He could not see him cry because he could not turn around and he was pretty thankful that the cruel destiny did make it like that. But the sound was enough to break his heart completely – he had never heard it before. Not like that. Not so full of pain. It was like Finland was hit with these events exactly like himself, only on the inside. He finally closed his eyes, tried to endure the pain, wishing that he could take the pain that Finland felt right now, away. He just wanted to protect him – nearly nothing counted more than that. Nothing except his population could be that important to him. Finland meant everything. And he was the only one that stayed in that chamber when everyone left and the door was unlocked. Denmark easily got bored – now it was Norway's time to suffer under that mood.

"Ruotsi…", the voice of the younger one was broken by pain and pity but still warm and tenderly. Like the beat of butterfly-wings, quiet, soft. Caring. Finland stood up slowly, his jaw was covered in blue and green bruises by now. He walked over to the still Swede whose whimper had stopped. It was like he had no strength left anymore. With the keys that laid right in front of the window, he unlocked the chains, freeing the elder one from his bounds.  
When the hold of the chains left him, Sweden's weak knees broke in – he had not enough power to hold himself up probably. Immediately, the tiny nation tried to catch the taller one, reaching out with both of his arms, holding him tightly. But the weight was still too much for the young-adult-like body of Finland and so they both fell on their knees onto the hard, stoneground underneath them. Finland still held him tight and Sweden laid his head on the smaller ones shoulder in defeat. He was even paler than normally, exhausted, sad, angry, and desperate but most of all: powerless. And guilty. So guilty. He had not manage to safe his own people from Denmark. He had not been able to protect them. He had not been able to protect Finland. _His Finland. _  
"'m s'rry…", he whispered, his voice cracking and shaking by every syllable. He stiffened when he felt the tiny hands of the smaller one on his back, trying to calm him down, comfort him as much as possible. Finland looked at him, his face tear streamed, his wonderful deep eyes puffy and red, not so much as Sweden's but still like he had cried for an eternity. In those orbs stood concern, pain, pity, anger but also something different. "It'll be alright…I promise…", his voice grew even softer when he let the other one sob into his blouse, closing his eyes.  
Sweden was overflowed with so many emotions in this very moment that he thought he must die right away. He was still froze by the pain, he was still dragged into a deep hate, into the dark wished for revenge that would become true one day. But on the other side it felt good to be in the younger ones arms – and it made him worry. He had bound his heart so much onto that tiny nation that had wrapped his slender arms around him. He loved him more than anything else. Something like that would never be unnoticed by Denmark. And Sweden did not know why the eldest of them hated him like that but he would clearly start to play with that love. And he would hurt Finland.  
"F'nland…", he whispered, finally breaking the silence in the room. His voice was full of worry, despair and love and it cracked fastly. He lifted his head to look at the other ones face and felt the sharp feeling of guilt once again stabbing his heart when he noticed the bruises on the fine, beautiful face of the younger male. Finland looked at him with those huge eyes and he tried even to smile for him. Again. Like he did everytime they were together. This happiness. This hope. He needed everything of it. He needed each touch that could bring back the light in his life. And he would not survive without him, clearly not. The despair was gripping his heart, making it heavy, planting worries inside his soul that forced him to worry more and more.  
Slowly, he reached up to cup Finland's face – the younger one had managed to give him a little smile that should cheer him up. His lips were so pale in that second – they used to be pink all the time but even though he looked exhausted and tired with his messy hair and his pale skin and those awful bruises…He was the most beautiful person he had ever seen in his whole existence. He had always been beautiful but…Sweden gazed to the ground, his large hands still gently around the other ones face. Finland was so quiet…He did not even noticed that he was crying once again, because of the guilt, the worry and this wish inside his heart. And Finlands gaze became sad again, but also warm when he untied the ribbon around his neck and used the white textile to wipe the streaming tears away, one by one in such a gentle way that Sweden wanted to cry even more. How could he be like that when he had failed again? Failed his people, failed him? "…F'nland…", he whispered once again and grabbed the other ones hand as he wanted to pull it away again. Sweden brought him in close, causing the younger one to blush slightly but he did not complain in any way. His heart raced – Sweden realized that and tried a reassuring smile but nothing like that would work.  
He was too sad, too full of negative emotions in the moment.  
His next action was so sudden that neither he nor Finland had even the time to think about it. He moved the hand that still held the side of Finland's face carefully to his chin, bringing his head up to him and leaning down. When he brushed his flayed, dried lips on the soft and warm one of the Fin, he noticed how his eyes widened slightly before the younger one closed them, giving in to that feeling inside his heart. The kiss he got from the elder one was long and so full of a mix of emotions that he did not know on what he should concentrate at all. It was full of despair and guilt, worry and fear. Like this could be the last time Sweden would ever get the chance to kiss those very sweet, heart-shaped lips of the tiny nation in front of him. Like he was waiting to be pushed away or slapped in the face. In contrast to that he just had to notice that the tears in Finland's eyes had started to stream down his slightly flushed cheeks. Reluctantly and slowly the elder one pulled away, his hands still on the tiny nations face. He wiped his tears away carefully and sighed quietly. "'m sorry.", he said and avoided the other ones gaze. "D'dn't w'nt –", he murmured regretful when he was suddenly silenced by another, sudden, unexpected kiss. It was so innocent and short that neither of them really realized it but it was still, or maybe even because of this feeling, the best thing that could have happened. For a second he nearly forgot the pain that was pounding through his body. For a moment as short as a blink of an eye or maybe even less, his mind was white – not the blending white of the merciless wintersunrays but white as the soft snow above the landscapes of the north. It was too comforting, too consoling, and too wonderful to be true.  
Sweden closed his eyes tightly and held the other one close to his chest.  
Finland was so quiet – it was like those two little kisses had stolen every word from his lips – he did not know what to say and he was just concentrate to slow his heartbeat down somehow.  
What to do? He tried to comfort the elder one when the pain came back, letting him rest at his shoulder although he became heavy after a short time. It hurt to see him like that – weak, in pain. It hurt him so much. He buried one of his small hands carefully in the blonde hair of the Swede and stroke through it - a surprised that it was that soft. His tears had dried, he did not even know how many time had passed, he did not even know if Sweden was asleep or if he was still awake but it did not matter. Either way he would stay by his side. His amethyst eyes closed themselves once again when he leaned his head against the other ones. "Minä rakastan sinua…", he hushed sincerely with his warm, incredible soft voice.

1809

Sweden had been awake that time but he had not dared to say a thing. He did not even had the courage to make his confession to him. He had stayed quiet, still, silent, admiring that feeling that calmed him so much. The feeling that he had lost forever now. It felt so cruel, those flashbacks, that made him wanted to laugh when he did not even found the strength or a reason to smile. That made him wanted to cry when he had got no tears left. That made him wanted to die although he perfectly knew that he was a nation. That filled his heart with even more guilt – guilt – guilt. He had fail, hadn't he? He had sworn to himself that he would protect him. He wanted to endure everything for him and now he had not even the slightest chance to get him back, to free him. He wanted to stand up. Wanted to walk to that Russians place and free him out of the large nations grip. But it did not work. The only thing he could do was sitting in the snow, a wounded Hanatamago in his arms – staring at the merciless grey sky, waiting for it to fall down on him – to end it all.

* * *

Minä rakastan sinua - Finnish for (can't you guess?): I love you

historical background: (Well, well, i have not managed to write the founding of the Kalmar Union yet ^^' It'll come soon) So basically all of the Nordics were together in that thing called Kalmar union under the danish crown after the king of Sweden and Norway had died without a heir. In the time of the Union, Sweden got rebellious against Denmark, especially between 1512 - 1520. But the rebellion failed and the new crowned King of Denmark took revenge or, better said, tried to show them their place by killing nearly 100 people in two days (8th and 9th of November).


End file.
